


we make a good team (when we're working for the same goal)

by donotspeaktomeofdragonfire



Series: Teamwork (Jamilmads) [1]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Aftercare, Alcohol, Analingus, Anxiety, But only a bit, First Time, Healthy Relationships, Historical, Light Dom/sub, Light Masochism, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Praise Kink, Size Kink, Threesome - M/M/M, imperfect sex, powerbottom!James, why is that not a tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-15
Updated: 2018-09-15
Packaged: 2019-07-12 15:26:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15998066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/donotspeaktomeofdragonfire/pseuds/donotspeaktomeofdragonfire
Summary: All Alexander wanted to do was find Madison's minutes from the meeting. He definitely didn't expect to end up crouched behind a chair, listening to something he really shouldn't be.--This is a historical, non-abusive, non-Room Where it Happens Jamilmads fic, because I wanted it. I come two years late to the Hamilton party bearing a gentle dominant bottom James Madison, an overly cocky Thomas Jefferson, a masochistic whirlwind Alexander Hamilton, and a lot of laughter. And it all turns out well in the end.





	we make a good team (when we're working for the same goal)

**Author's Note:**

> An 18th-century sofa is slimmer than you think, with bare legs, not a stuffed couch of modern times, by the way. A withdrawing room is a small, cozy meeting room with a few pieces of furniture, and frankly I've taken some liberties with the architecture.  
> The three men have some characteristic banter, but there is NO abuse or coercion in this fic. The only iffy part is the beginning, with the "accidental voyeurism" tag, but it resolves itself quickly. The "period-typical homophobia" tag is for Alexander's worries, and it helps set up some of the story, but none of the men act in an uncomfortable way about it. There is also a brief fear of death, but it's played off relatively lightly, so there should be no worries. "Analingus" is rimming, oral, in case you're squicked about that, but it's easy to skip over the paragraph or so when it happens.  
> Also, if anyone has a less-dumb title, or any suggestions for future works, I'd love to hear them. I'd absolutely love to get more than two things published a year.

Hamilton pushes papers aside, trying to find where Madison keeps his minutes - it was important, he hadn’t gotten a chance to talk to the man about his notes from the day’s debate, and it was getting difficult to track him down. So he’d slipped into the New York home where he knew Madison had been staying. It wasn’t as though he was breaking and entering, as he didn’t intend to _take_ anything, he only needed to see the notes and it would be enough to pull through for the next meeting. But he can’t deny the slight guilty feeling in his gut as he rifles through letters and notes. He finds several letters written from Madison on behalf of both the President and Congress, in response to each other. Hamilton chuckles; the poor man was stuck writing to himself on occasion, no wonder he’d been so restless. Alexander had noticed the way Madison shifted in his seat during the debate, throwing near-threatening looks at Jefferson. Madison was a good man, a good writer, he really was underutilized as a glorified scribe.

In the quiet of the house, Alexander’s ears prick up as he hears the front door. Frantically, he glances around, but there’s no place to hide in the office, and the window is a full storey from the ground. He couldn’t be caught here, there was no way his excuse was believable. He’d be tried for espionage, treason, even. Silently, Alexander ducks into a side-door, where he had scoped out earlier was the bedroom, then bolts for a modest withdrawing room, which presented some opportunities to hide himself away. Sliding behind a plush red sitting chair in the far corner of the room, he tucks himself as small as he can. Though he isn’t a whelp anymore, he is still rather small and lean, and fits well. He tries to make himself fairly comfortable, since there’s no telling if he will get a chance to leave before daybreak. Hamilton may very well have to sleep here, but he reminds himself that Madison does not have frequent visitors and this withdrawing room is likely seldom-used.

Unfortunately, in a cruel twist of fate, he hears footsteps and low voices from the bedroom. Two male voices, he notes, so they must be headed for the withdrawing room, a place to have a private conversation. Hamilton slows his breath, being sure to keep his mouth closed and breathe only through his nose. If they caught him - he couldn’t afford to think that far ahead. Fear would only make his heart beat louder, his breaths heavier.

Sure enough, he hears the door open not far away. The room was maybe fifteen feet square, with a few pieces of furniture set up, enough for a handful of close friends rather than a formal drawing room. It was dangerous, almost too dangerous, and Hamilton curses his own bad decisions that had led him here.

The door closes, and it’s Jefferson’s voice that speaks out first. “Now that we’re alone…”

“Have patience,” Madison scolds.

Suddenly Hamilton cares less about his own safety. The information he could gather from the private conversation would be incredibly valuable, especially if they ended up talking about the day’s debate. He won’t be able to publish any of it without arousing suspicion, of course, but it may give him an upper hand. Alexander briefly wants to kick himself for not bringing a pen and paper, though he thinks better of it a moment later. He couldn’t exactly sit behind a chair and take dictation.

There’s a strange sort of silence, and a few breaths. The lamp ticks, flushing the room with soft light. Jefferson and Madison make their way over to the sofa across from his hiding spot, thankfully leaving Hamilton’s chair in peace. He can hear the shift of fabric as they find their positions, and every movement seems amplified in the silence of the small room.

“You did well today,” Madison says, in an almost comforting tone. “Seeing you there, so passionate...” Jefferson chuckles softly.

“You like my passion?” he responds, and there’s a note behind it that Hamilton can’t decipher.

“Always,” Madison seems to reassure him.

“If passion is all that it takes to win your heart, I should count myself lucky that Hamilton didn’t get you first.”

 _What?_ Oh, he must be talking about their political leanings. It was true that Madison had helped Alexander with the Federalist papers, despite their current opposition.

Madison only laughs. “Don’t talk like that. He may be a tomcat and a scoundrel, but you…” He trails off, and there’s several more heavy breaths. It takes Alexander far too much effort not to burst out of hiding and defend himself.

One of the men’s breath catches, and there’s a soft moan. It must be Madison, because Hamilton hears the familiar sound of him clearing his throat.

“Come on, now,” Madison coaxes, and Jefferson laughs, gentle and low. It’s a strange sort of tone that Hamilton hasn’t heard from him before. There’s more shuffling, and the floor creaks.

The next words out of Madison’s mouth disrupt Alexander’s entire train of thought.

“You’re such a good boy. Say you want me.”

“I want you,” Jefferson breathes.

“Tell me. You know how much I love it.”

This was far more than a private political conversation. Hamilton’s mind kicks into top speed again, weighing his choices. If he exposes himself now, he could save all of them from the humiliating scene. But Jefferson would probably shoot him, and Alexander would have been found spying on the two of them, and his legacy - what would they say? The two men would never let the truth get out, and Hamilton would die in disgrace. He couldn’t even use the discovery as leverage: the very fact that he was here in secret prevented that. Besides, it would never be believed, it would remain only a rumour. Sodomy was a very serious accusation. And, of course, there were his own private affairs to think of. Could he, in good conscience, condemn them for this human comfort?

There was nothing for it. He would have to stay, keep hidden, and steal away when they left. He would block his ears as best he could, to maintain their privacy. It would remain confidential with him.

The whole of the crisis took only a few moments, and Alexander could not stop himself from hearing Jefferson’s deep voice murmuring filthy things.

“I want you, Jemmy, I want to taste your _cock_ , to bury myself in you, I want to kiss you everywhere and make you mine.”

James sighs tenderly, and the shuffling of fabric sets Alexander’s mind reeling. In this new context, their few words before presented him with an entirely new and baffling meaning. Why did they drag his name into it? Did they suspect that Hamilton would have propositioned Madison? Or was it all just talk?

“That’s it, Thomas, my heart,” Madison encourages, then breaks a deep groan that has Hamilton focusing on keeping his own breath steady.

“You’re too romantic,” Jefferson purrs, and Madison gives him an annoyed tut.

“I can be as romantic as I want to be with my cock in your mouth,” Madison tells him, and God, that shouldn’t be such an enticing mental image when it’s _Jefferson_. “Would you rather me firm?”

“You seem to already be firm,” Jefferson teases, relishing the double-entendre, but something makes him gasp.

“I don’t want to hear another word from you.” The tenderness is gone from Madison’s voice now. The soft sounds turn to an unmistakable sloppy, wet rhythm, which punches little sounds out of Jefferson, and Hamilton can’t stop himself before he lets out a too-heavy breath.

Everything goes still. Alexander never prayed, but he did now, begging that he wouldn’t be found, that it had been lost in the fury of sound.

Madison hums.

Jefferson seems not to have heard it. “What’s wrong? Did I do something wrong?”

“Oh, no, no,” Madison reassures him. “It was probably just the wind in the rafters again.”

“You heard something?” Jefferson’s whisper is coarse, tinged with fear. “An intruder? A burglar? A spy?”

“Surely not.” Though his voice is even, Hamilton hears the floor creak. Something wooden scrapes.

“Don’t shoot!” Hamilton squeaks, and both men stop.

“We ought to,” Jefferson tells him coldly, but neither of them approach his hiding spot. “We can’t exactly let you leave here alive.”

“Please, James,” Alexander begs, staring a hole into the back of the chair. If they knew who he was, maybe they’d listen - or maybe it would give Jefferson more incentive to shoot.

“Hamilton?” Madison’s voice is incredulous. “What the hell are you doing?”

“I just - can I come out without you shooting me?” He swallows nervously, shifting so he can push the chair away from the wall.

“What the _hell_ are you doing in my house?” Madison repeats, and Alexander rises slowly, his hands up in surrender.

Jefferson is staring at him as though he’s about to strangle him with his bare hands, and although that’s the usual look he gets from the man, it seems much more of a genuine threat at the moment. Alexander can’t help but notice the sheen on his lips.

Madison just looks… bewildered. His breeches are undone, but he’s pulled them up enough to rest on his hips. Though he stands in front of the gun case, he makes no move to take a pistol.

“I…” Hamilton sighs. “I was looking for your notes from the meeting today.”

“ _In my bedroom?_ ”

“No - no, I tried to find you, but - I ended up looking in your office, and I didn’t want you to think I was robbing the place, so I hid - god, this sounds ridiculous.” He keeps his hands up, just in case.

Jefferson looks to Madison for direction, and the man lets out a deep, long-suffering sigh and closes the gun case. “Well, I believe it’s something stupid you would do. I don’t even have the notes in my office yet, I handed them off to Washington. Why the hell… I don’t understand your train of thought, Hamilton.”

“I- I thought about it, I didn’t realize, I knew I couldn’t come out of hiding after - you’d shoot, and I’d be caught trespassing, and what would people think - and of course I couldn’t use it against you, I thought about it but it wouldn’t - it wouldn’t be anything. And myself.” Alex knew he wasn’t making sense, but his gaze flew frantically from one man to another. He swallowed, wetting his lips. “I wouldn’t tell a soul. On my life, I wouldn’t. It wouldn’t be right.”

“I really appreciate you giving me an excuse to shoot you,” Jefferson snarks, but simply crosses his arms. “How can we be sure?”

“We’re all complicit,” Hamilton hurries to explain. “I’d have no way of backing up any claims, besides my word, and I couldn’t say where I’d heard it, because of my own trespass. It’s just - it would be a mess.”

Madison covers his eyes with one hand, then runs it back across his hair. His face is set grimly. “I’m afraid you’re right. Whatever you’ve heard here - it never leaves this room.”

“I just was wondering,” Alexander blurts out, before he can stop himself, “why you mentioned my name?”

Thomas barks out a laugh before slumping back onto the sofa. He rests one arm across the back of it, leisurely. “I was only teasing. James said he liked my passion in bed, I joked about your passion in the Cabinet meeting. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

Hamilton lets out a breath. They weren’t going to kill him. In fact, they really seemed to be laughing at his poor predicament. Madison joins them again.

“Of course,” Alex rushes forward into a joke, “I don’t know if I’ll be ever able to look at you the same in debate after I know how well you can be silenced.”

Jefferson’s face drops into a scowl, but Madison only smirks in a devillish way Alexander wouldn’t have imagined he was capable of. He was learning more about these men in only a few minutes than he had in the past several years of knowing them.

Madison moves over to the sofa, perching on it, and combs his hand through Thomas’ curls. The man gives him an inscrutable look, before matching his smile.

“I wonder if you can be silenced so easily as well,” James purrs at him, though he keeps his eyes on Thomas.

Alexander’s stomach drops. “What?”

Finally, James looks up at him. “Do you really want to see how well he responds to me? You didn’t get much of a show from behind the chair.”

Alex searches their faces for any sign of deception, but they’ve already established how they are all equally compromised. He could leave; a simple “no thank you” would do. He could go back to the home where he was staying, drink the whole thing out of his mind.

He doesn’t say no. Instead, Alexander’s legs weaken, and he sits down hard in the chair, facing them. It’s his turn to be completely baffled. To go from being on the verge of killing him to propositioning him in a few sentences, it’s too much to even process. But he stays, his face open, betraying his thoughts.

James turns back to Thomas then, his fingers still clutching the beautiful hair. He presses their lips together softly, and Hamilton now knows the cause of those soft breaths. Thomas is more eager, though, kissing him deeper, and James’ erection grows steadily, pushing away the undone laces of his breeches. Thomas paws at it, pressing his hand against James, and Alexander finds himself frustrated that he can’t get a good look.

Glancing over to Alex, James must see something in his eyes, for he pulls Thomas’ hand away, shoving his breeches down to show himself off. The sight makes Alexander’s breath catch in his throat. It’s about five inches, a good length, but it’s the width that’s most enticing to him, and the dark, smooth color.

Thomas attacks James with kisses, all down his neck, and Alexander realizes he’s biting his own lip. The heat in the room is intense, and he longs to remove his coat, but Alex doesn’t know how far his role stretches in this situation. He is completely out of his depth, and it’s not a feeling he’s used to. His usual method is to simply - to take charge, to forge a new path ahead.

“May I…” His voice dies when the men look over to him, and he licks his lips. “May I remove my jacket?”

Madison laughs. “Remove whatever you like,” he practically sings. “God knows I’m going to.”

Hamilton stands to remove his coat and drop it over the arm of the sitting chair. There’s a new thing to add to tonight’s discoveries: he’s never seen Madison so confident before. The man is usually reserved, quiet, but here he’s completely in control.

Thomas’ hands are roaming eagerly underneath James’ shirt, and he is soon divested of it. Not one to be one-upped, Alexander pulls his own shirt off, gaining Thomas’ attention.

“Well, you’re eager,” he teases, and Alex flushes. “Are you going to join us, or sit there half-naked?”

“Join you?” Alex has another cold realization that he really doesn’t know exactly what’s expected of him.

“Come here,” James breathes, stroking a hand up his own cock. “Stay with us.”

Alexander rises, closing the small distance between them, and sinks to his knees, almost unthinkingly. Looking up, he sees that he’s surprised the other men. He has the upper hand, finally.

Alex takes hold of James’ cock, still partially slick from Thomas’ mouth. “How much can you take?” he purrs at Thomas, challenging him from beneath heavy eyelids.

“More than you,” Thomas snorts.

Alexander doesn’t answer him, instead licking at the heavy head of James’ cock. He’d almost forgotten how intoxicating the taste was, the sweet rub of skin on his tongue. Taking it into his mouth, he turns his eyes to his task, trying to estimate how far he can take it, and for how long. But the art of oral sex isn’t a race, he reminds himself, and hums as he sucks in the first couple inches.

Groaning low and deep, Madison threads his fingers into Alexander’s hair, and Alex tenses. He has to take this at his own pace. But James doesn’t push, just rests his hand there, almost a tender caress, so Alexander swallows around him, licking and pulling and savoring the weight of it. Clenching his thumb in his fist, an old trick, Alex pushes down the length of James’ cock, swallowing to get past the initial gag reflex. When he settles at the base of it, his nose nestled into the thick curls, Alex looks wickedly up at Jefferson.

He knows he can only hold the position for a few moments, but the look on both men’s faces is worth it. James is practically melting above him, cooing and murmuring little praises as he pets Alexander’s hair. Thomas’ eyes burn into his, the same anger and passion and defiance with which they stare each other down in the Cabinet, but there’s something deeper and darker behind them now, and the fire blazes deep into his gut and his own nether regions.

Thomas grabs his hair, tugging him backwards off of James’ cock. Madison only gives a frustrated scoff at that.

“You want to keep comparing us? Fine.” Thomas shuffles off his own coat and shirt, practically throwing them across the room. “See how we _really_ compare.”

Hamilton grins impishly at him, stands, and unbuttons his own breeches, dropping them shamelessly to the floor. His cock stands fairly proudly at his stomach, flushed with desire. Placing a hand on his hip, Alexander raises an eyebrow at the other man. James rolls his eyes, dropping his head back on the sofa in fake annoyance. Or maybe just real annoyance.

Thomas’ smile seems too much like genuine joy as he pushes his pants down, and Alexander can quickly see why. Jefferson’s cock is a good two inches longer than his own, thick and heavy with an upwards curve.

 _“Well,_ ” Alex huffs, trying to disguise the fact that he’s lusting after _Jefferson_ , of all people. “Just because you have a battering ram doesn’t do you any good unless you know how to use it.”

“Would you like to find out?” Thomas purrs at him seductively. Alexander moves towards him, intending to straddle his lap teasingly, but James puts up a hand in objection.

“Absolutely not. If you two start going at it I’m going to feel completely left out.”

Thomas’ eyes flash in the lamplight. Pulling on James, he leans back on the sofa so that his head rests on the arm, and Madison is on top of him, chest-to-chest.

“Hamilton,” Thomas snaps. “There’s oil in the top drawer of that chest.”

“Fuck off, I’m not sitting here and watching you fuck him.”

“You’re absolutely right,” he chuckles. “I figured, if my dear Jemmy wants some attention, why not give it to him?”

Alex catches on almost immediately and rushes to grab the bottle of oil. It’s half-empty, which has absolutely _tantalizing_ implications. When he turns back to the pair, James is gasping into Thomas’ mouth, his arms bracketing the man’s head and fingers tangling in the wild curls. They seem absolutely impassioned with each other. Well, Alexander is not one to be outdone.

He brings over the oil, setting it on the floor within easy reach, and kneels between Thomas’ legs. James’ rear is practically spread out for him, plump and round. He takes each buttock in his hands and relishes the groan he gets for it. Thomas is whispering something into James’ ear, but Alex intends to gain the man’s full attention.

Alexander blows softly over James’ asshole, and he gasps into Thomas’ mouth. “Alex-”

He licks a long stripe over it, tasting the skin and sweat, running his tongue over each little bump until James relaxes into his mouth. Placing a kiss directly over the twitching hole, Alexander realizes to himself that he hadn’t actually _kissed_ either of them before this all started. This wasn’t a courtship. He had turned this tender lovers’ meeting into a delicious orgy. It was _perfect_.

Returning to lavish his attentions on James, he slowly works on licking every spot he can get to, from the tip of his tailbone down to his stones, until the man is shuddering beneath him.

“Thomas, let go of me,” he hears James demand, shaking. Alexander sits back, realizing that Jefferson has grabbed the man’s wrists, holding him in place.

 _We make a good team_ , Alex thinks. _When we’re working for the same goal._

Thomas makes a noise that’s nearly a giggle. “Nope.”

Wriggling, James kicks out, and Alexander nearly catches a foot in his ribs. “You’re supposed to be the submissive one, you bastard.”

“You think I’m going to be submissive in front of Hamilton, you can fuck off.”

Alex smiles, petting James’ rear. “One of these days, I’m sure. Actually, Thomas, let go of him for a second, please?”

Thomas obliges, and Alexander grabs James’ shoulder. “Come on, help me turn him over.”

“ _He_ has a name, you know,” Madison protests indignantly, but they just laugh, and he allows himself to be manhandled. They position him on his back, so that Thomas can press kisses to his neck. James is rather shorter and a bit stouter than Jefferson, so the posture turns out a bit strange - Thomas’ dick sits below James’ ass by several inches. But there’s plenty of room for both Thomas and Alexander to run their hands across James’ body, across his furred chest and belly, and down his rather shapely thighs.

“God dammit, if you’re going to do something why don’t you _do it?_ ” James snaps at them. They’d been both pointedly ignoring his cock, and it was surely aching, bobbing as it was against his belly.

“You know, James,” Alex asks, “if you’re such the dominant one, why was Thomas’ first thought to offer _your_ ass up for the taking?”

Thomas kisses his shoulder gently, and James sighs. “I really would like to have a snappy answer for that one, but I’m not actually particularly comfortable right now,” he points out.

The two of them look at him in surprise, and Thomas lets him up. Alex sits back on his feet, kneeling on the sofa. James stretches for a moment, then beckons Alexander up. When Alex stands to oblige, James grabs his wrist, leading him over to a low ottoman. From behind them, Thomas groans.

“But that’s no fun for _me,_ ” he whines, seemingly aware of James’ plans.

James pays him no mind. “Lay down on your back, here,” he commands, and Alexander obeys. From this position, his legs hang off the end of the ottoman, but he bends them at the knees and places his feet firmly on the floor. The first thing he notices is that he’s not going to have any real leverage. The second thing he notices is James straddling him, but across his chest, rather than his cock. James’ knees balance on either side of him, and Alexander can see the muscles in his thighs working to keep him raised up, rather than resting his full weight on Alex.

“Thomas, get the oil.” His voice is steady, nothing like the whimpering mess they had him only a minute ago. In an instant, Thomas is by their side, uncorking the bottle and letting the sweet perfume into the room.

“Now,” James tells Alex. “You’re going to use your fingers to work me open. And you’re not getting any kisses, thanks to that filthy mouth.”

Thomas smiles, handing Alexander the bottle and kissing James, open-mouthed, as if to taunt him. Alexander only dips his fingers in the oil, then coats James’ asshole in it, massaging it open. When he slips one finger in past the rim, James relaxes and bears down on it. Alex groans. If James is used to _Thomas’_ cock, then it would surely take very little to get him ready. He pushes a second finger in with it, and finds it supple already.

“God, that’s beautiful,” Alex murmurs, and the two men smile at him. Crooking his fingers, he presses around a bit until he finds a familiar little bump that makes James arch forwards with a pleasured sigh.

“There we go,” James encourages him, and Alexander finds himself blushing unexpectedly at the praise. “Such a good boy for me.”

Alexander rubs at the spot a bit more, watching James’ uneven breaths, before the man pushes at his wrist. “Alright, that’ll do, thank you.” Shifting back, James straddles over Alexander’s desperate cock, which had been leaking in anticipation for quite some time. With one hand he reaches underneath him to grasp at it, and the other he presses to Alex’s chest to balance himself. Thomas, who before had been unusually hands-off, reaches out to hold James’ sides and steady him.

When Alex feels the head of his cock breach the tight rim, he throws his head back with a curse. Slowly, torturously, James works his way down, and Alexander finds he can do nothing to change the pace in the position he had been placed in. This must have been especially devised to provide this kind of torture and helplessness, Alex realizes.

“Not quite as big,” Thomas points out, rather unnecessarily. James hums happily.

“Like he said, a battering ram,” he retorts, but there’s no fire behind it. “God, this is just… I love this feeling. There’s nothing like it in the world.”

After a few moments of relaxation, James starts setting his own pace. It’s an even, bouncing rhythm: up, half-down, up, then fully down, as though he were posting on a trotting stallion. It’s perfect and practiced, and Alexander tries his hardest to keep his eyes from closing in pleasure. He wants to watch the faces James is making, the way his tongue peeks out from between his lips on the upstroke, and how he bites his lower lip to keep from cursing too loudly at each breath.

Alex’s eyes flick over to Thomas. The man keeps one hand loosely on Madison’s back, maybe just to have that point of contact, but the other hand strokes lazily at his own cock. He notices Alexander watching him, and raises an eyebrow, smirking.

“He’s good.”

“Yeah,” Alex breathes in agreement, then drops his eyes to Thomas’ cock. Almost unthinkingly, he pushes his tongue out to lick his bottom lip.

Thomas steps closer to his head, aiming at Alexander’s mouth. “Here,” he coaxes, and Alex’s mouth drops open. There’s incredible pleasure building in his gut, but his focus splits itself between the two men, allowing him to stave off orgasm for now. It’s too soon for it to be over, and he wouldn’t hear the end of it if he were the first to come.

Pushing gently between his lips, Thomas begins to slide into his mouth. Alexander has some experience, but his jaw quickly aches from the width, desperately trying to keep his teeth guarded as James rocks him with every movement. He breathes through his nose, and if there were any shame to be had from this situation, straddled between two of his political opponents, the absolute overwhelming satisfaction has flooded it out of his mind. The head of Thomas’ cock hits the back of his throat, pressing against the tight muscle, and Alex swallows around it. Thomas rewards him with a low, deep grumble and a steadying hand in his hair. He manages to get a good part of it down before it becomes difficult to breathe. He throws a warning hand up, and Thomas pulls out.

“I should have known you couldn’t take it,” Thomas teases him, smug.

“I can, and I will,” Alex snaps back, staring daggers at the tall man.

If Thomas says something in response, Alex doesn’t hear it - at that moment, James smacks him across the cheek. It’s not enough to hurt, just firm enough to get his attention. Alexander’s eyes are immediately back on James, who smiles at him, eyes half-lidded.

“I don’t like being ignored,” he tells him, picking up the pace of his hips.

Alexander groans and whispers, “Do that again.”

James doesn’t seem to hear him, but Thomas does. “Oh, say that louder,” he encourages, his voice almost breaking as he slides his fingers into Alexander’s hair.

“Hm?” James is definitely paying more attention now.

“Please,” Alex chokes out. “Hit me again.” He meant it to be a request, but it came out sounding like more of a challenge.

Pausing and resting on Alex’s hips for a moment, James cracks his arm back and swings at him with a resounding smack. It likely wasn’t supposed to hurt just as much as it did, but Alex grits his teeth and comes, riding the high of pain into orgasm. His hips jerk and James clenches around him, the added pain setting off bursts of stars behind his eyelids. Behind the rush of blood in his ears, he vaguely hears Madison talking him through it - _“What a good boy, come for me, so good,”_ \- and Jefferson’s soft _“damn.”_

James swings off of him to give him rest, patting his leg almost patronizingly. Alex throws a hand over his eyes and groans. “Shit,” he declares to no one in particular.

“Great job,” Thomas chuckles, reaching out a hand to pull him up. “I think it’s better to be a battering ram than a racehorse.”

“I mean you have to admit that was incredible,” James remarks to Thomas, collapsing back on the sofa. “I knew you were a bit of a masochist, but I never would have guessed it went _that_ far.”

“Oh, fuck you,” Alex curses, sitting up on the ottoman.

“Nope, you had your chance,” Thomas quips. “My turn now, and I’m a hell of a lot more considerate lover. Maybe you should try France for a while, it might teach you a few things.” He saunters over to James, who is still hard. His legs rest open, and it almost knocks Alex back down again to see where the cum drips out of him, staining the sofa.

James cups his hand against Thomas’ cheek. “Maybe I should make you eat it, lick me clean,” he murmurs, and god, Alexander can’t take much more. He wishes he had the refractory period of a teenager, since apparently he still has the stamina of one.

“What, d’you want me to?” Thomas whispers against James’ kiss.

“Some other time,” James tells him, and it sounds almost like a promise.

They kiss for a few moments, Thomas stroking James’ cock with oil, but James laughs. “We can’t leave him over there in the cold,” he scolds him.

“Just watch me.”

James shakes his head, laughing, then stands, pushing Thomas away. The man just moves his lips to James’ neck, which he admittedly has to bend a ways for. When James waves his hand, beckoning Alex to join them, he follows obediently, though his legs are about ready to mutiny.

He crashes onto the couch, leaning back. What the hell could they still have planned for him?

James turns to him, smirking, and leans over, bracing his hands on the back of the sofa around Alex’s shoulders. Alexander’s vision is swallowed up by the man’s face, and he looks at Madison with new eyes - the gentle curve of his upper lip, his strong brow, the sweat from exertion shining on his hairline - he’s almost _beautiful_ . Alex doesn’t see what Jefferson does behind him, but it makes James’ eyelids flutter, and Alexander realizes with delicious horror that James is going to demand his attention, is going to make him _watch_ as Thomas fucks him.

James buries his face into Alex’s neck, finally kissing him, pressing his lips against his skin. Alexander can see past him now, can watch Thomas, too, as he slides into James’ already prepared rear.

As Thomas pushes past where Alex could reach, James shudders, breathing hot onto Alex’s neck. When they’re settled, James tries to lift himself back up again, stretching his arms so that he can look into Alexander’s eyes again.

“I want you to watch,” he pants, “watch what he does to me, just how _good_ he is.” Alex nods, and James tilts his head, growling to Thomas, “Do it rough. I need it.”

Thomas jerks his hips, shoving James forward. He crashes into Alex, who catches him with his lips, tries to turn it into a heated kiss, but their teeth clack with the force of Thomas’ thrusts. James has to abandon his plan, choosing instead to return to Alexander’s shoulder, gripping hard against the back of the sofa. The noises he makes are right in Alexander’s ear, and he can hear the muffled moans and curses, mixed with soft encouragements and praises. Alex raises his hand, fumbles around a bit against James’ stomach until he can grab at his dick. It’s still slick with the oil Thomas had used on him earlier, and he lets James fuck into his fist, which earns him more tender, sloppy kisses. Thomas works into a steady rhythm, not as fast as Alex was perhaps expecting, but he fucks deep and hard and James doesn’t seem to be complaining.

Thomas is definitely quieter than Alex would expect - he’s all blustering words in the Cabinet, and any time their paths cross, he doesn’t lack for a clever quip. But here, the both of them are transformed: James’ usual quiet demeanor hides an easy dominance and a need for attention; and Thomas is focused only on the two of them, his words lost for a stream of panting, needy gasps, his composure thrown away completely.

“I’m, I’m going to,” Madison pants into his ear, and Alex tells him, _“yes, yes, yes.”_ He lets out a long groan, sucking hard onto the side of Alexander’s neck. Thomas grunts as James’ hips stutter and clench, and Alex can feel hot cum spilling over his hand, dripping onto his leg.

“Hold on,” Thomas begs, adjusting his position and fucking desperately into James before it becomes too much for the smaller man to handle.

Alex stares at him, how the sweat sticks his hair to his forehead, his eyes wide and almost panicked as he tries to reach his release. Alex can see it in his face, how he’s _so close_ , that he just needs something, some little push, to send him up over the edge.

“Come for me, Thomas,” Alexander blurts out impulsively, and Thomas’ eyes snap to his for just a moment before they close tightly and he curls over James’ back, shuddering, his hips still twitching.

When Thomas pulls out, James breathes hard, resting for a moment before standing. He presses his hands against his back, stretching, and Thomas swoops in to give him a tender kiss on the cheek. Thomas’ gaze returns to Alex, and he seems a bit… mystified. Swallowing, Thomas looks as though he’s about to say something, but it dies and he licks his lips instead, glancing around at the clothing strewn around the room.

James pats him on the rear. “Go get us some towels,” he instructs, and Thomas sighs.

“Why do I have to do it? Make Alexander do it.”

“He doesn’t know where they are, genius.”

Thomas rolls his eyes in mock annoyance, slipping out of the room and back into the bedroom.

Alex just sits. He has… absolutely no frame of reference to help him out here. The few flings he had were nothing like this, just fumbles in the dark, nowhere near this good. And there was the issue of their working relationships. His thoughts slowly gather themselves again, the whirling hurricane of words in his mind clinging together to form sentences and worries and desires and pain. Pain, the pain of uncertainty, of everything that hangs in the balance of this moment, of the consequences of _any_ choice they make here. Even if they send him away, if this was, for better or worse, only a one-time fling, he won’t be able to look at either of them the same again. He may not even be able to _look_ at them again, he’ll have to resign, or just power through it, putting his legacy and the greater goals above his own personal shame. And the other option is worse, almost too awful to even consider - what if they asked him to stay, to join them again? What if he _wants_ to?

Alexander is so caught up in his own mind that he doesn’t even notice when James sits beside him, just far enough away that they don’t touch. It’s fine with Alex, any touch may be too overwhelming right now. He wants to break off, to run and never speak another word to anyone, he wants to sleep forever. He wants to kiss Jefferson, because he never got the chance to, and the man’s _dick_ was in his mouth and he doesn’t know what his lips feel like.

James hasn’t left, hasn’t kicked him out. His breathing is steady and slow, and Alexander matches it, lets it ground him. James turns a page.

“What are you reading?” Alex asks, and his voice is a lot quieter than it usually is.

“ _Hamlet_ , actually,” Madison tells him, and Alex has to let out a little nervous laugh, because the absurdity of the whole situation is a little too much not to laugh at.

“You read _Hamlet_ after sex?”

James smiles warmly, the edges of his eyes crinkling in a way that will give him crow’s feet when he’s older. “It’s just what I happen to be reading right now. Sex tends to calm me, it steadies me, and I’m inclined to just need something familiar to focus on afterwards.”

“Yeah,” Alex agrees. “Usually, I feel the same way. It’s the only thing that clears my head, just for a moment, like being in the eye of a hurricane.”

“Usually?” James isn’t looking at him, but it’s out of kindness, and his voice is soft.

“I’m just worried.” James only hums, and Alex knows he won’t question further if Alexander stops there. “What happens now?”

James pauses, his smile fading. He keeps his eyes on the book, but Alex knows he’s stopped really reading it. “What do you want to happen?”

Alexander drops his gaze to the cushions of the sofa. He can see now that the fabric isn’t as rich as it initially seemed, that there’s wrinkles worn into it, and much of it is splattered with fading stains - stains that betray a history of this room. He is more of an intruder now than he was when he stole into the house.

A feather-light touch brushes his leg, and Alex freezes. But his mind is clearer now, and James’ presence seems to have had an effect on him. The panic is fading, even if there’s still no clear path forwards.

The door opens, and Alexander startles in fear.

“Towels and wine!” Thomas exclaims, shutting the door and reaching for the latch to lock it behind him. “We really do have to start keeping them in here.”

Thomas isn’t worried, Thomas isn’t having an internal crisis over what they’ve just done. Thomas is just… Thomas. Alexander smiles, quietly amused.

He brings the damp cloths over, draping one across James’ lap and giving him a peck on the cheek. Another he practically shoves at Alex, before dropping down next to him, shoulder-to-shoulder, thighs touching. The way he seems so casual about his own nudity is astonishing.

“How do you do that?” Alex asks him.

James snorts in sudden laugher, and Thomas raises an eyebrow, looking at him skeptically. “You’re asking me how I fuck so good?”

Alexander cringes, chuckling. “No, lord no. I wanted to ask how you’re so casual about all this. I mean, we just… had sex, the three of us, of _us_ , and you’re… drinking.”

Thomas waggles his eyebrows at him, taking a swig directly from the bottle. James looks over to him, askance. “Where did you get that? Don’t tell me you went all the way down to my wine rack naked as the day you were born.”

He laughs. “Nah, you had it in your room. I think it may have been left there for some special occasion. It’s kind of warm.” He offers it to Alex, who accepts it and drinks. He tries to pass it down to James, but the man just smiles and shakes his head, putting one hand up. So he drinks from it again and passes it back to Thomas.

“How are you not concerned?” Alex asks again.

“Mm.” Thomas pops his mouth off the bottle and swallows before answering. “I don’t need to think about it, because I just had some incredible sex, with two very nice gentlemen, and neither of them are running away screaming.”

Alexander nods. “That’s actually a good way of thinking about it, I suppose. I just worry so much.”

“Hamilton agreeing with you,” James mutters quietly. “We need to do this more often.”

“It also doesn’t hurt that now I know I have a bigger dick than you,” Thomas adds. Alex just laughs, scoffing.

“See, that,” he gestures to James, “is what I’m talking about. You say it so casually, that we’ll do this more often? What on earth does that mean?”

Thomas turns to fully face him, pulling a look that’s almost like disgust. “Are you having a crisis now, Hamilton? After all that? What happened to ‘come for me, Thomas’?”

“I-” Alexander flushes at the attention, and at the mention of his own impulsive words. “Does this really mean that we’ll do this more often? I didn’t even know I wanted to do it at all.”

“Are you telling me you _don’t_ go home after cabinet meetings and stroke yourself off to the thought of me?” Thomas asks in exaggerated offense, then chuckles, handing the wine back to him. “I didn’t know I wanted to do this either, before you popped up like a little devil in our private rooms. You always seem to have a habit of putting yourself in the middle of everything, Alexander.”

Alex holds the bottle in one hand, staring absentmindedly at it. “I suppose, if it’s not worth thinking about, then I just won’t think about it.” He tips the bottle up to his lips, trying to drown out the voice in the back of his mind that tells him that sentence was practically nonsense. Ah well, it only mattered that it made a strange sort of sense for _him._ When he trades it back to Thomas, wiping his lips, Thomas places it on the end table. “I have to go home,” Alexander realises quietly.

“You don’t have to,” James offers, and Alex turns to him in surprise. The man closes the book, smiling at him, his eyes inviting. “Stay. You’re welcome in my bed.”

Alexander’s breath catches in a silent gasp. This, all this, was one thing, but to share the bed was… unthinkable. But then, all of this was unthinkable just earlier tonight, what was one more sin?

“Perhaps I’ll just sleep here on the sofa,” he chuckles, and James’ nose wrinkles.

Thomas makes a disgusted noise. “You definitely don’t want to sleep on _this_ sofa. Hey.” His tone changes, and Alex finds Thomas’ fingers on his chin, and Alex turns to face him again. Thomas leans in and presses his lips to Alexander’s. They open gently and Alex follows, letting Thomas slide his tongue teasingly between them and deepen the embrace. After a few moments, Thomas pulls away, smiling. “I didn’t get the chance to do that before.”

Alexander lets out a single nervous chuckle, nodding. “Okay,” he says. “Okay.” He can’t exactly bring himself to say _I’m staying, I’ll stay as long as you let me, you seductive bastard_ , but he hopes his lack of words convey it well enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Madison is reading Hamlet because that's what I've been reading, and also because it features a lot of "no-win scenario" inner monologues.  
>  ~~I am brainstorming/drafting a sequel, but my writing pace is slow and difficult, so please have patience, and encouragement always helps.~~ Sequel now up!! Thank you so much for all your encouraging comments  <3


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